Golden Boy
by Shellecah
Summary: Pardoned bank robber Merse Nation and his sweetheart cousin Chloe, an unstable young man and two bad brothers stir up trouble in Dodge.
1. Chapter 1

The reformed bank robber tending bar confounded Kitty's patrons and gals. With Sam away, she hired Merse Nation as a favor to Matt. Kitty trusted Matt's judgment and would do almost anything for him, provided her generosity did not in any way jeopardize her freedom.

"Marshal Dillon vouches for him going straight," Kitty assured those who quizzed her about Merse. "The judge pardoned him on the marshal's plea for clemency on condition Merse works while he's in Dodge. He has another chance, and he's too smart to steal again and ruin it for himself. He isn't violent; he never shot a man. No, he's not replacing Sam. Merse will help me out here 'til Sam comes back."

"I think this young fella will work out fine," said Doc. "He's well-mannered enough." Matt had told Doc and Kitty about Merse revealing how the marshal's former wartime friend Eli Sinclair, a burly man bigger than Matt and almost as tall, belittled Chester to his face and roughed him up when Matt hired Eli as special deputy while the trail herds came through town. Though Eli threatened Merse, who was jailed at the time, he nonetheless bore witness against the deputy to Matt, so the marshal, Doc and Kitty were beholden to Merse.

"Figure a man name of Merciful Nation would turn good before many years of his life went by," said Doc. "Being of Puritan stock."

Reckoning he'd find the straight and narrow easier going with a virtuous woman by his side, Merse telegraphed his father's brother's daughter, his cousin Chloe Nation in Boston, begging her to leave her comfortable job at the family bookshop to travel to Dodge and marry him. "Cousins marry each other habitual among my folks," Merse explained. "I'm expected to ask for Chloe's hand."

Chloe agreed to journey West. Merse needed her, and from her earliest memory she'd never let him down, though she had yet to decide if she would marry him, as he'd always been wayward.

"Can you use a hostess, Miss Kitty?" Merse pleaded. "I won't earn sufficient tending bar to take care of Chloe like she's used to. She won't wear a costume or paint her face as she's a lady, but she's pretty and obliging. Book-learned and highbred too, and just twenty-five years old."

"Well Merse," said Kitty, smiling, "If she's that accomplished, I don't think she'll wanna go near the Long Branch."

"Oh, she'll do it for me," said Merse. "Chloe will do about anything for me. And she'll take to the job; I know she will."

Gazing into his bright, vital dark eyes, Kitty realized she couldn't refuse. Though not tall or strong like Matt, Merse at twenty-eight years was neatly formed and nimble, the height and build of most men and somewhat slim yet not skinny. Kitty found Merse's pert regular features, clear light-gold skin and curling dark hair attractive, and beyond the appeal of his looks and disposition, she wanted to accommodate him for risking his skin to help save Chester from that brute Eli Sinclair. The Long Branch needed more refinement, and Kitty counted herself lucky to hire a cultured lady like Chloe.

Chloe looked like a female version of her cousin Merse, resembling him closely enough to be his sister, and the two were openly affectionate in an intimate way. Despite Chloe's comeliness, because of her brown complexion Merse had just two rivals in Dodge for her attentions, and only one serious suitor, though most of Kitty's patrons dallied with Chloe, and many asked to share a bed.

A cordial young woman fond of men, she patiently tolerated their caresses and embraces until they tried to kiss or propositioned her, at which point she rebuffed them. She'd never lain with a man, as she wanted to come to her marriage bed in purity.

Whether she'd marry Merse, whom she'd loved tenderly since they were babes, or the beautiful young rich man who'd asked for her hand fifteen minutes after meeting her, Chloe did not know. The only other admirer showing an interest in her beyond dallying and carnal lust had such an easy way about him, she doubted if he'd ever propose. Tall and slim, he worked for the marshal and sparked all the pretty gals.

The rich one, named Tristan Wayland, and the other, who was poor but had kind eyes and a sweet manner, sat with Chloe at a table, while Merse watched them with sober vigilance from the bar and the orange sunlight of early November brightened the Long Branch. Chloe never drank beer or whiskey. She sipped steaming coffee sweetened with three brown sugar lumps and cream, and her two companions had nearly full beer mugs.

Their attention shifting every few minutes to Merse to gauge his reaction, Matt, Kitty and Doc stood at the bar and with lively curiosity regarded Chloe and Tristan. Merse had acquired modest fame in Dodge for robbing the bank, receiving a pardon at Matt's request and working as barkeep while Sam was away, Tristan's father was a Chicago industrialist and millionaire, and Merse, Chloe and Tristan, young and singularly attractive, were newcomers to Dodge.

"That Tristan fella's even younger than Chloe," said Doc. "He looks like a young'un."

"Chloe said he's twenty-one, only just," said Kitty. "She said his father's ashamed of him and exiled him out West soon as he came of age. His kinfolk think he's addled somewhat. Said it in front of the boy since he can remember. According to him, anyway."

"Hard thing, for a boy to hear that all his life," said Doc. "His kin callin' him lunatic would make him slip his moorings even if his head was rock steady."

"Well I don't know about you and Kitty, Doc," said Matt, "but there's something not quite right about that boy from what I see. He's staring so intently at Chester sparkin' Chloe, he hardly blinks. Scarce moves, even."

"What's odder than that," said Doc, "He don't appear riled, or anything while he's lookin'. Has no expression at all."

"He could be a sculpture, sitting there," said Kitty. "A strange breathtaking sculpture."

Untouched by the curiosity stirred in his friends, Chester was not disquieted by Tristan's relentless stare. A mid-sized man on the lean side, Tristan was about the same height and build as Merse, with a gentle patrician face and large eyes soft at their depths, though they now shone hotly, enamored of Chloe. Dandified with proper speech, he had a quiet intonation that sounded peculiar to Chester, who'd never been to Chicago and thought Tristan had less sense than a young'un half his age.

Chester took a big swallow of beer to embolden himself, pushed his hat to the back of his head and leaned on the table to move closer to Chloe. "I was thinkin' you might like to go picnickin' sometime, maybe," he said, smiling.

Tristan turned his gaze from Chester to Chloe. "You'll do well not to waste time on this fellow, Miss Chloe, since I am here seeking your hand," said Tristan. He took her slim fingers in a soft white hand that matched the fair complexion of his face. He had small hands and unmarked silky skin that a woman would envy. Most women with paint and powder could not replicate that stainless unvarying hue, tinted pink on his cheekbones.

Chloe thought of Merse's adept bronze hands, barely larger than Tristan's yet so much stronger. She knew Merse watched from the bar, and wondered with concern if he'd feel very distressed. When Merse was six years old and Chloe three, he told her they'd marry when they grew up, and he'd considered her his betrothed ever since. Merse wouldn't give her up easily if she decided to accept Tristan. Her cousin pursued anything he wanted with hound-like tenacity.

"Chester has not my advantages," said Tristan. "Or my breeding or education, and he doesn't look nearly so well as I. He's not a whit handsome as I am, nor a whit serious about courting you, either, my dear."

Chester was not insulted, as he knew Tristan spoke truth. The younger man's tone was so soft and mild, a body would as soon take offense at a lady of the same age, which of course was nearly unthinkable. Chester had no wish to turn foppish for any woman, and too much book learning just gave him a headache and a well of confusion. He surely had no desire to look pretty either, and as for courtship, he wasn't thinking on marrying as he couldn't provide for a wife.

"All that don't mean Miss Chloe and me cain't picnic if the notion takes us, ain't that right, Miss Chloe," Chester said easily.

"The weather's growing cold to sit out, Chester," said Chloe. "It's chill here in the Long Branch, even with the sunbeams shining in; I must wear woolens and a wrap to keep warm. I don't see how Kitty's girls stand going about in those skimpy outfits."

"You see?" said Tristan to Chester. "Miss Chloe wants none of your plans. Why don't you join your friends at the bar, or talk to Merse?"

"I'll talk ta Merse sure 'nough," said Chester, unruffled. He couldn't spark Chloe as he wanted to with the boy there, so gossiping about Tristan appealed to him more at the moment. " 'Scuse me, Miss Chloe." Chester tipped his hat, rose and picked up his beer.

Mr. Dillon stood close to Miss Kitty at the end of the bar, with Doc at her other side, and Chester hoped Doc would let him shoulder in next to her. "Dah-oc," said Chester, with a wide smile.

Feigning vexation, Doc jerked his head back and looked up at Chester. "What in blazes are you grinning about, Chester."

"Oh nothin', nothin' at all," said Chester. "Jest lookin' forward to chattin' with ya, Doc. D'you mind if ah wheedle in here aside Miss Kitty?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I do mind," said Doc. "This one time, you're not takin' the best spot at the bar."

"Aw now Doc . . . ." said Chester.

"Oh Doc," Kitty laughingly said. "Let him stand beside me if he wants to. Come here, Chester."

"Well of all the . . . ." Doc said, as Chester pushed in next to Kitty.

"You lost out on your conquest over there, didn't you," Doc said to Chester. "So now you wanna come crowding up here when there's plenty of room at this bar where you can stand."

"Well I need to stand here, Doc. I got somewhat important to say. You oughter hear it, too, Merse," said Chester, as Merse sidled closer to them, listening in.

"It's about that dandy boy trying to steal my fiancée, ain't it," said Merse. "I'm minded to go direct to that table and horn in."

"You best watch out for him, Merse," said Chester. "Addlepated feller like that, there's no tellin'."

Merse snorted. "I'd soon fear a little girl as him."

"He's set on Miss Chloe b'longin' to 'im, what I mean," said Chester. "If you let 'im know she's yer intended, irregardless. He's afflicted with mad passion. You'll all see the truth of it right along," he grimly predicted when his companions laughed.

"He's kissing Miss Chloe at the table there now," said Matt in an amused, disinterested tone. Whether or not Tristan Wayland was mentally ill, Matt thought Chester was acting alarmist as he often did. Tristan seemed to the marshal like a pampered boy, younger even than his twenty-one years.

Leaning on the bar, Matt straightened up and watchfully eyed Merse, who scowled at Tristan holding Chloe in his arms. He'd taken off his hat and she sat in his lap, her fingers playing with his soft, waving brown hair. With no sign of the childlike mien so visible a moment ago, Tristan kissed her with a sureness borne of experience and a knowledge of his charms. He kissed her fervently yet tenderly, desperately yet not wildly.

"He knows how to give a woman loving; I'll say that for him," Doc said drily. "Nothing boyish about 'im there."

"I'm gonna put a stop to it," said Merse.

"I don't want any fighting in here, Merse," said Matt.

"Won't be no fight to speak of, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "Tristan cain't hit none from the look of 'im."

"Please don't, Merse," said the young woman standing near them at the bar. She was Sophie Talbot, one of Kitty's girls. "He's just a boy in love."

"Chloe and I've had an understanding since we were knee high, Sophie," said Merse. "I won't hit Wayland unless I need to."

"Can't you stop him, Marshal?" said Sophie, as Merse moved to the table.

"He hasn't done anything yet, Sophie," said Matt.

Immersed in fondling each other, Tristan and Chloe did not notice Merse standing over them until he spoke. "Unhand my fiancée, Wayland," Merse ordered.

Chloe rose from Tristan's lap and stood between the two men, putting her hands on Merse's shoulders. Her closeness affected him as it always had, even when he was a little boy and she an unformed girl with curls escaping her braids and swirling round her head every which-way.

Where most men considered Chloe girlishly pretty and bright, to Merse she was stunningly beautiful, and he was utterly easy with and comforted by her beauty and at rest in her presence, unlike with other women. Her face mirrored his own; she was in every way part of him. Compelled to touch her when they were this close, Merse took hold of her waist.

"You're relations," said Tristan, "You look just alike. You're brother and sister. That's indecent!"

Merse's hands slid to Chloe's arms and he moved her to the side, then backhanded Tristan. "Watch your tongue," said Merse. "We're cousins."

Clearly not used to being struck, Tristan grabbed his face and leaned on the table. "Stay away from her," said Merse. His hand closed possessively around Chloe's arm. "Come to the bar and keep me company, Chloe," he said.

"No." Chloe pulled her arm away. "You didn't have to hit him, Merse."

"He insulted you," said Merse.

"He didn't mean to."

"Miss Chloe did not tell me she was engaged to be married," said Tristan, rubbing his face where Merse hit him.

"I'm not," said Chloe.

Tristan pushed back his chair and stood. "Then I will continue courting her with the intention of marriage," he said, "if it means a duel between you and me, Nation. I'd rather die than not have her."

"You fool boy," said Merse, as Matt moved toward them. "You're not even wearing a gun."

"I'll buy one and strap it on at once," said Tristan.

"I don't hold with gunplay in this town, Wayland," said Matt.

Tristan looked up at Matt. The marshal's pale-blue eyes appeared concerned and decisive, but not the least hard or cold. Overlying the gentleness in Tristan's eyes, Matt saw an intensity of mania of a deep-rooted sort which the marshal figured had ailed the boy long before he met Chloe.

"Not to worry, Marshal," said Merse. "I won't draw on him."

"I will shoot you, anyway, Nation," said Tristan, "if you try to keep me from Miss Chloe."

"You're not shooting anyone," said Matt. "You keep up that kind of talk and I'll have to ask you to leave Dodge."

"I won't leave, Marshal," said Tristan. "You cannot force me to leave here. I'm going to Mr. Jonas's store and buy a gun and belt and bullets." He put on his hat and left the Long Branch.

"There's somewhat wrong with that boy, sure," said Merse.

"Be careful around him, Merse," said Matt. "Try not to rile 'im."

"I won't let him make love to Chloe," said Merse.

Matt looked at Chloe. "Tristan's obsessed with you, Miss Chloe, and he's not right in the head. You'll do him and Merse a favor if you stop encouraging the boy."

Chloe's face flushed and her lovely dark eyes sparkled with anger. "I saw right off Tristan's not mentally sound, Marshal," she said. "I think because he needs a woman's love, not contrariwise. He needs a good wife to care for him. And he won't want to shoot Merse if Merse leaves him alone and quits stirring up trouble. I will fall in love with whomever I please, Marshal," said Chloe. "And that goes for you, too, Merse."

Matt looked at Chloe and made no reply, thinking how smart and bold and pretty she was, while Merse regarded her in consternation, his mouth parted. The thought of losing her made him freeze still.

The anger faded from Chloe's face and her eyes went soft. "Don't look so, Merse," she said. "I love you, too." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Then you won't marry Wayland?" Merse implored. "You'll marry me, honey? I love you so much, Chloe. All my life." Feeling an intruder on their privacy, Matt moved back to the bar.

"I know," Chloe said to Merse. "I haven't decided though whether to marry you. But I'll come to the bar and keep you company liked you asked." Arms around each other, they walked to the other end of the bar from where the marshal and his friends stood.

"Miss Chloe Nation is one headstrong woman," said Matt. He took a long swallow of beer. "She won't listen to reason about Tristan. If she ends up marrying Merse, he has his work cut out for him."

"Doc and I and Chester heard it all," said Kitty, "and I think Chloe might be right about Tristan needing a good wife to take care of him. He's young for his age, but he's not a boy, Matt. And I don't know why you're blaming this on Chloe. Merse is the one to blame."

"Merse is in love with her," said Doc. "Can't fault a man for gettin' his dander up when he sees the woman he loves in the arms of another man. Chloe's playin' 'em against each other, looks to me, and it won't end well, she don't stop it."

"She's not engaged to Merse, Doc," said Kitty, "so she doesn't have to stop anything. Chloe has a right to spark as many men as she wants, and I want her to. It's good for business. If Merse and that swoony Tristan get hot-headed over her, it's their doing. Maybe they'll kill each other, leave Chloe free to catch a better man than a near cousin she's known all her life, or a lunatic."

"Now, you don't mean that, Kitty," said Doc.

"Maybe I do," said Kitty.

" 'Tain't Merse's fault nor Miss Chloe's," said Chester. "Miss Chloe's a fine obligin' lady, Doc, and you oughtn't find fault with her." Though he hadn't taken to Mr. Dillon's hard words about Miss Chloe either, unless he was a sight distressed, Chester had a time getting out the words to tell Mr. Dillon when he'd said something disagreeable, which in Chester's opinion was almost never anyway.

Kitty smiled smugly at Doc. "You don't know a thing about it, Chester," said Doc.

"That mad Tristan Wayland's ta blame, not Miss Chloe," said Chester. "He throwed hisself at her and spelled her with them soft addled eyes."

"The man's mentally sick, Chester," said Matt.

"Mr. Dillon, he ain't like them daft ones to the asylum, dunno what they're about," Chester argued. "I knowed he was trouble early on."

When Jonas sold Tristan the costliest six-shooter in his store, a solid silver gun with a long slim barrel and butt sheathed in mother-of-pearl, and a gunbelt cut from the finest cowhide with a silver buckle, Jonas did not consider whether the young man meant trouble. Tristan seemed rather strangely excited, and his soft brown eyes had the look of one who'd smoked an opium pipe and been overcome at a sideshow, but Jonas not uncommonly saw men, women and children in town and regions roundabout who'd lost their wits, and he was neither surprised or disturbed. It was hard to live off the prairie, which in many places was barren, and Dodge City could be harsh, with frequent eruptions of violence—beatings with any weapon imaginable, people of every age—female and male—caught alone and violated, fights and gunplay.

Although Tristan had never lived in the country or done anything resembling work in his life, according to Ma Smalley, who'd heard about Tristan from Miss Chloe Nation, who boarded at Ma's. Young Wayland had been raised in luxury, and only just traveled to Dodge from Chicago. Ma said he was born unsound, that it was in his blood.

"He hasn't the faintest idea where he's headed in life," Ma told Mr. Jonas when she visited his store to pick up her light shipment of sundries. She sifted through a basket of neatly stacked sunbonnets as she chatted. "Not that it matters. Rich folk don't need direction, or they can take as many paths as they please for the fun of it. Miss Chloe says Tristan has twenty million, and he'll inherit more on his father's passing. Tristan's staying at Dodge House in their best suite, but he doesn't know if he'll settle here in town. He doesn't know where he'll settle, if anywhere.

"The boy's mother died of wasting sickness from women's complaint when he was a year old, or she might have nurtured him and kept him close instead of sending him away to fend for himself when he came of age like his pa did, seeing as Tristan has a plaguing infirmity. It's just inside his head where it doesn't show," said Ma.

"Well, he's hardly fending for himself with twenty million dollars," said Jonas. "I wouldn't have to do a lick of fending the rest of my days if I had just twenty thousand, long as I lived modest."

"That's so," said Ma, unfolding an orange-brown calico bonnet.

"Now that's a nice one for harvest season," said Jonas. "The catalog says the color is _autumn leaves_."

"It is nice, isn't it," said Ma, adding it to the stack of bonnets she'd set aside. "I shouldn't buy too many, though, with winter coming soon. I'll be wearing hoods, then.

"You heard about the fracas at Delmonico's yesterday, Mr. Jonas?"

"It's been all over town," said Jonas. "Young Wayland was at the center of it, wasn't he?"

"Him and that bank robber, Merciful Nation. Why Marshal Dillon asked the judge to pardon him, I can't begin to think. Merse is like a half-tamed colt never properly trained. For all he's gentlemanly and he's Miss Chloe's cousin, so he must have _some_ good breeding."

"D'you know what exactly happened at Delmonico's, Ma?" said Jonas. "I musta heard ten different accounts if I heard one."

"Miss Chloe was there and she told me everything," said Ma. "The marshal was there too, with Chester and Kitty Russell. I got some of it from Chester when he came to my place for breakfast this morning, but I think Miss Chloe's account more reliable. You know how Chester exaggerates, and he mixes things up somewhat. I didn't bother asking the marshal, though he rooms at my place. It's like pulling teeth to get more'n a word or two from him about fights and such," Ma said.

Ma followed Mr. Jonas around the store while he cleaned and tidied, arranged merchandise and worked in the stockroom, logged purchases and expenditures and waited on patrons, who all listened raptly as Ma related the Delmonico's incident. She loved to gossip and chat, loved an audience, and despite a rather flighty manner at odds with her efficiency, keen level head and hardworking nature, she had book-learning and proved an interesting storyteller and surprisingly good conversationalist.

"Yesterday was Miss Chloe's day off from her hostess job at the Long Branch, and Tristan came calling at luncheon time to invite her to dine with him at Delmonico's," said Ma. "I noticed he wore a gun, as he hadn't on his earlier visits, a beautiful model all of polished silver with a lovely grade of pearl on the butt—if one may describe a gun that way—and the finest gunbelt with a silver buckle. I hoped he wore it just to show off, and wouldn't use it and get himself in trouble.

" 'Tristan's affliction does not affect him speaking well in society, and we had a pleasant time until Cousin Merciful showed at the restaurant, Ma,' Chloe told me. 'Merse was raised in the same surroundings as myself; none of the family can imagine how he turned out wayward. He defied our conventions even as a little boy.' I knew whatever Merse did at Delmonico's riled her as she frowned and her eyes glittered when she spoke his name, and red color flooded her face, which is the loveliest light-golden shade.

" 'Tristan is sweet and soft-spoken with aristocratic manners, natural to his bones and like a fine portrait to look at, and I can't help but love him, Ma, although I've _always _loved Merse and still do,' Chloe confided to me. 'My love for Merse is different, though, like we're joined twins sharing one heart, even when distance separates us. Merse is so very familiar, and Tristan is wonderfully strange and new.'

" 'When I walked in Delmonico's on Tristan's arm,' Chloe said, resuming her story, 'Marshal Dillon was seated at a table with Kitty and Chester.

'Kitty smiled and called out a hello, so Tristan led me to their table so he could bow and acknowledge her greeting. 'What a pleasure to see you here, Miss Kitty,' he said. 'You look ravishing.'

" 'Kitty thanked him,' said Chloe, 'and he greeted the marshal and Chester. Marshal Dillon responded only by saying 'Tristan,' and Chester said 'Howdy' dismissively, without meeting Tristan's eyes. I know Westerners on the whole can be a taciturn people, Ma, particularly the men. As a Bostonite from a literary family whose father is an English professor and bookshop owner and mother a society matron—my folks are comfortably prosperous but not rich—I find it hard accustoming to their manners, though the marshal and Chester are fine men and gentlemanly. Marshal Dillon takes some liberties, I think, speaking his mind to younger women, and he has a thought or two that aren't at all progressive. I'm happy you and Miss Kitty aren't at all taciturn, Ma; you especially are quite the other way, so I have friends I can really talk to and confide in.'

"Well I should think so!" I said. "You'll find too that Chester's the best of friends if he likes you, and he's clearly taken with you, my dear. Once he figures in his mind you're a worthy body, he chats up a storm."

" 'Oh yes, I've found that out,' said Chloe, smiling. 'I'm fond of Chester, but I doubt he's a suitable match for me. I think he's too poor to support a wife, and he's not seriously courting me, besides. And I certainly don't mean to imply that Marshal Dillon stands anywhere but high in my estimation, either. He's a very good man; I'm sure of it, and so strong and steady. Just being in his presence makes me feel safe, Ma, like no one and nothing can hurt me.'

"Yes, I think all the womenfolk feel like that around the marshal, I said. I surely do. But do continue your story, dear.

"Chloe and I sat in my parlor over tea at the time, you know, Mr. Jonas.

" 'Yes, well, anyway, where was I,' said Chloe.

"You and Tristan had greeted the marshal and Chester and Kitty at Delmonico's, I said.

" 'Oh yes,' Chloe said. 'Did I mention that Kitty's girl Sophie Talbot was lunching at Delmonico's then, too? She was sitting by herself. Kitty hired her out of charity, I think. Sophie's plain and thin and unmarried at thirty, so people don't take much notice of her, but being devoutly raised I should know better. My uncle's wife, Merciful's mother, is from a Puritan family, so Uncle Luke became Puritan, too. But I'm rambling.'

" 'Tristan and I seated ourselves at a table of our own,' said Chloe. 'The waiter served our water and coffee, and we ordered the prairie grouse with sweet potatoes and peas.

'That's when Merse walked in. It was his day off too, I guess. Always alert, he spotted us at once, glared, then hesitated as though making up his mind to do something. Knowing him well, I desperately wished he wouldn't do it, whatever it was.'

" 'Kitty later told me that Marshal Dillon kept a fixed eye on Merse, and the marshal tensed to spring up and keep order if he had to,' Chloe said.

' 'Matt feels responsible on account of he petitioned the judge to set Merse free after he held up the bank,' Kitty explained. 'Chloe, I know Merse is your cousin and I like him,' said Kitty, 'but he should try harder to rein in his feelings about you and Tristan, if only out of gratitude to Matt. It'll reflect badly on him if Merse and Tristan fight or shoot it out. Matt knows that and it troubles him.'

" 'I suppose you know it's no secret how dearly Kitty loves the marshal, Ma,' said Chloe. 'Kitty won't straight out say so, but her eyes light up like blue gemstones in the sun and she smiles a little in a musing way whenever she speaks of him. Kitty has a beautiful expressive face; don't you think so, Ma?'

" 'And Marshal Dillon stays very close to Kitty at the Long Branch,' said Chloe, when I affirmed Kitty's beauty. 'They look into each other's eyes a lot, and he has a wide smile he gives only to her.'

"Folks here know Kitty's the marshal's woman, I said. So what did Merse do next, Miss Chloe?"

'He moved to our table, took off his hat and said, 'Hello, Chloe. Tristan. You don't mind if I pull up a chair and join you? So I'll have someone to talk to.' One side of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

'Merse, really, I said. You weren't invited.

' 'And Mr. Wayland here was not invited to seduce my lady,' said Merse.

'Tristan stood up, and Merse with his keen quick eyes saw Tristan's new gun as the early afternoon light shining through the windows scintillated off the silver.

' 'Matt saw the gun too, Chloe, when you and Tristan came to our table,' Kitty later told me.

' 'That boy's actin' a fool,' Matt said. 'That fancy silver six-shooter will attract riffraff eager to tease or rough him up at best, or beat and rob or kill him, or worse things I won't mention in front of you, Kitty. Tristan's probably never shot a gun in his life.'

'And Chester said, 'Are you gonna take the gun from Tristan, Mr. Dillon? Recollect he threatened to shoot it out with Merse.'

' 'Not yet, Chester,' Matt said. 'If I take the gun now, Tristan will just buy another. I'll see how it plays out before I step in.' '

Ma Smalley paused telling the story to take a deep breath, and dramatically touched her hand to her chest. "Hey there, son," Jonas said to a young'un who'd just purchased a sack of gumdrops, "run to the stockroom and fetch Mrs. Smalley a dipper of water from the pump." He couldn't remember the child's name as he belonged to a family of sixteen children, seven of them under eleven years old. Jonas did not want to fetch the water himself, as Ma had finally reached the part when the fracas at Delmonico's likely started.

A crowd now filled the store and surrounded Ma, and she was in her element. Jonas knew she wouldn't stop or follow him if he left the room. He did hope all the folks would want to buy something else to refresh themselves when Ma finished the story—some jerky and crackers and hardboiled eggs, and maybe some bottles of sarsaparilla.

"Well Mr. Jonas," Ma said, "My heart just tripped as I waited for Miss Chloe to say what happened next. My little hired girl carried into the parlor a fresh pot of tea and hot buttered sweet rolls, and looked like she wanted to stay and listen, but I shooed her away by promising to add twenty cents to her pay that week if she prepared the rump roast and put it to cook in time for supper."

"So then Chloe said, 'Tristan said to Merse, 'You will please to take yourself off at once, sir. I asked your cousin to dine with me, and she accepted. You have no right to intrude.'


	2. Chapter 2

" 'Merse's grin widened and his dark eyes—so like my own when I look in the glass—twinkled in amusement, I suppose at Tristan's proper speech, though I don't know what Merse found to laugh at, as he grew up in refined circles where people speak that way. Really, Ma, Merse talks little better than an uneducated cowboy now, and I don't know how he imitates Western lingo so well, though he is a fast learner,' said Chloe. 'I hoped Tristan's highbred manner sufficiently tickled my cousin so he wouldn't grow angry and end it by knocking poor Tristan senseless.

' 'You can try to make me leave, you think you're man enough, Wayland,' said Merse. 'Otherwise I'm joining you and Chloe here at table.'

' 'I'll ask you to step outside, then,' said Tristan, and color bloomed like two pink rosebuds in his pale cheeks.

" 'I quickly rose from my chair,' said Chloe. 'No, Tristan, I said. Merse, please don't hurt him. Just leave.'

' 'I'm not going anywhere,' said Merse.

" 'Merse is so agile, Ma,' said Chloe, 'so what happened then startled me. I guess Merse thought Tristan was afraid to fight, or his sense of propriety forbade him to fight in the restaurant. Merse did not expect Tristan to swing at him, and Tristan's punch hit him squarely.

'Merse stumbled back, and Marshal Dillon stood up, but before he could cross the room to our table, Merse swiftly struck Tristan twice with both fists, knocking him down. Tristan fell back on his chair, and the chair toppled over.

'With clenched fists, Merse stood over Tristan. 'I warned you to stay away from Chloe and I meant it,' said Merse. 'If I see you with her again, you'll get worse.'

' 'That's enough, Merse,' said Marshal Dillon. 'You're not eating lunch here today. Go on out.'

'The marshal looked accusingly at me. 'Why don't you go with your cousin, Miss Chloe. You're only causing trouble here,' he said.

" 'That made me real mad, Ma. I felt hot clear through,' said Chloe. 'I said, I don't take orders from you, Marshal. They never would have hit each other if you'd bothered to get up in time to stop them.'

'The marshal gave me a long-suffering look, then picked the chair up and helped Tristan into it. I think the marshal's used to women tempering at him, since he scolds and orders when he's of a mind to.

' 'Come on, Chloe honey,' Merse urged. 'Maybe Ma Smalley will let us pack a lunch basket, and I'll pay for the loan of a horse and buggy from Moss Grimmick. We'll get out of this dirty town a spell.'

' 'I won't let you marry Miss Chloe, Nation,' Tristan said faintly. 'I'll kill you first.' His eyes looked peculiar, filmed over and darting from side to side, as though he looked inside himself and was blind to his surroundings.

'Merse made no reply, just gaped at Tristan, then looked up at Marshal Dillon. 'He's about lost his head, sure, Marshal,' said Merse. 'You'll have to ship him home to Chicago so his folks can put him to the asylum.'

' 'I said get on out of here, Merse,' said the marshal.

' 'Chloe,' Merse entreated.

" 'Tristan needed help,' said Chloe, 'and I didn't want to leave him sitting there, not knowing what would become of him.

'I'll go with Merse, Marshal, I said. I just want to make sure Tristan gets help.'

'Tristan rested his forehead on his arms on the table. He shook all over, so hard the dishes rattled.'

' 'Had I known he was that bad off, I would not have hit him,' said Merse.

" 'Remember I told you, Ma, the saloon girl Sophie Talbot was there at Delmonico's,' said Chloe. 'She appeared at the table, rubbed Tristan's back and leaned over him. 'It's alright,' Sophie soothed. 'Drink some water; it'll make you feel better.'

'Tristan turned his head toward her, though his eyes didn't seem to see her. Sophie showed no alarm when she saw his eyes. She put her arms around him and pulled him upright, then put the water glass to his lips and he drank.'

' 'Chester,' said Marshal Dillon.

'Chester rose and hurried over to us. 'Help him to Doc's,' said the marshal. 'If Doc's out, stay with Tristan until Doc gets back.'

" ' 'Yes, sir,' said Chester. He didn't look bothered by Tristan's strange condition either, any more than Sophie. Chester has a gentle sure touch with sick folk, Ma,' said Chloe. 'He helped Tristan stand and supported him as they headed for the door.

'Sophie went with them, helping Tristan on his other side. 'Don't worry, Miss Chloe,' Sophie said. 'I'll help take care of him.'

" 'If you want to know more about where Tristan is now and how he is, Ma, perhaps you can ask Chester,' said Chloe. 'I've found he loves gossip as much as we do. I haven't seen poor Tristan since Merse hit him and he fell ill at Delmonico's. I know I had a part in making Tristan worse, like Marshal Dillon tried to tell me, so I haven't visited Doc's or Dodge House to ask after Tristan's health, whichever place he is now; I don't know. I left Delmonico's with Merse, and that's when we came by here, and you fixed us that lovely picnic basket for our buggy ride.'

"So that is the whole of what I know about it, Mr. Jonas," said Ma. "I must rush back home now; I've so much to do, and I frittered away ever so much time prattling here already."

Doc said Tristan suffered a nervous breakdown at Delmonico's, and put him to bed in Doc's room. Young and physically healthy, and resilient despite his chronic mania, Tristan quickly recovered when Doc settled him in bed and gave him laudanum to calm his nerves. He stopped shaking and his eyes cleared. "I shall be up and out of your bed soon Doc, I assure you," said Tristan. "I'd go back to Dodge House now, only my legs are weak. They will be strong again with a few hours rest."

"You've had this kind of fit before?" said Doc.

"Now and then, since I was quite young. As long ago as I can remember, really. But I shan't impose on you a moment more than I can help, Doc. I've a rival for the hand of my lady, Miss Chloe Nation, and I shall lose her to her cousin if I laze about abed," said Tristan.

"You aren't lazing about," said Doc. "You were in such bad shape less than an hour ago, you couldn't walk without help. I'm a doctor, son. I know you're sick, and it's not just the fits. That's a symptom. This business with Merse and Chloe is making you worse. My advice is to have nothing more to do with the lady."

"You don't understand," said Tristan. "I'm not able to stay away from Miss Chloe. I am so passionately in love with her, I'll die if I cannot have her for my own. I may die anyway, for I shall duel with Merse Nation so Miss Chloe won't choose him over me. He is her cousin after all; she's known him all her life, and I must admit Merse looks as well as I, though in a different way. He may be better suited to her, but no matter, I must have Miss Chloe or die in the attempt."

Doc looked into the boy's soft artless eyes, which had fully recovered their animation and were mad with excitement. "Merse won't draw on you unless you draw first," said Doc. "He'll have no choice. I'm guessing you know nothing about using a gun, a showdown let alone. You force a fight with him and you'll end up dead."

"Perhaps," said Tristan. "I am prepared for that eventuality, as I said. If I cannot marry Chloe, I want to die."

As he was rich, idle, unstable and as good-looking as any beautiful woman, talk in Dodge centered around Tristan and his fancy silver gun. Matt felt sure the boy was attracting the attention of ruffians, and worried for his safety. "Why won't he put on a sensible six-shooter and belt that blends with what men carry in Dodge, if he must wear a gun," the marshal fretted.

When Chester handed him a telegram from the sheriff in Leavenworth, Matt knew he had a sight more to be concerned about than Tristan. Two bandit brothers named Jack and Tom Miller had just been released from Lansing prison and were reported seen in Dodge. The wire included a description of the brothers, stating they were "vicious" and "habitually in company with each other."

"Keep your eye out for them, Chester," said Matt, "but don't let 'em see you watchin'. They're mean ones. They do anything they shouldn't, let me know. Don't say anything or try to stop them."

Chester trailed Jack and Tom and reported back to the marshal. "Stockyards is full packed," said Chester. "Trail herds gettin' through 'fore the winter freeze sets in. Them brothers work the cattle pens 'til sundown, draw their pay fer the day and drink and play cards at the Long Branch 'til closin'. Sometimes they go upstairs with the gals. They stay in that back street roomin' house. Ya know, Mr. Dillon, the one without no name, 'cept _Rooms_. Ain't seen the Millers break the law, 'lessun you call starin' at and talkin' and laughin' 'bout jest one same feller lawbreakin'."

"What same fella," said Matt.

"Tristan Wayland," Chester blurted, and Matt felt a touch of amused annoyance. He knew Chester had timed his report to mention Tristan last for theatrical effect. "Jack and Tom laugh and whisper and talk low 'bout Tristan, so's no one hears what they're sayin'," said Chester. "They don't take no notice of anyone else. 'Cept the gals. Miss Kitty and me are feared harm'll come to Tristan from them two."

"Miss Chloe say anything about it?" said Matt.

"No, sir. Merse neither. Miss Chloe 'n Merse pass all their time together now, talkin' and sparkin' and sech. They don't pay attention ta Tristan no more. He sets still as a carvin' a starin' at 'em with them big lunatic eyes of his, sayin' nothin' at all. You know Mr. Dillon, same way Tristan looked at me when I was chattin' with Miss Chloe, the day Merse smacked 'im at the Long Branch. Tristan don't see Jack and Tom Miller watchin' 'im. He don't see no one but Miss Chloe 'n Merse," said Chester.

"Tristan needs a guard while the Millers are in town," said Matt, "but I can't pay for one now. Headquarters is two weeks late with the marshal's till money, and we're past due at Delmonico's for the prisoners' breakfast and dinner."

"Yes, sir," said Chester, "they're talkin' 'bout puttin' a hold on our account to Delmonico's, Mr. Dillon."

"We don't get the money soon, we might have to ask the parson to take up a collection," said Matt.

"Mr. Dillon, I kin guard Tristan when he walks from the Long Branch to Dodge House after sundown. It's too bothersome haulin' round a shotgun, but I kin put a six-shooter in ma belt."

Matt hesitated. The Millers weren't known as fast guns, but their reputation for savagery gave the marshal pause. Since arriving in Dodge, the brothers hadn't troubled a soul that Matt knew of, and he figured they kept quiet to shun public attention and stay out of jail. The marshal thought sure that Jack and Tom awaited the opportune time to catch Tristan alone and beat and rob him.

Matt also figured Tristan had done nothing to learn how to use the silver gun he wore. Anything he needed or wanted had likely been given to the boy and done for him all his life. He must think the mere purchase of things the same as filling his need and solving the problem, and so undoubtedly had no concept of what it meant to take care of himself.

That failing along with his unsound mind, soft nature and lack of bodily strength which made him a poor fighter, meant that if the Millers waylaid Tristan, he'd be no help protecting himself. Chester on the other hand was smart with a gun, had a sharp eye and no qualms about shooting bandits, though the lame leg slowed him down and he was scarcely better at fighting than Tristan.

Chester took advantage of the marshal's rare indecision to take a six-gun out of the desk drawer and load it. "Jest a short ways Long Branch to Dodge House," he reassured, putting the gun in his belt. "If them brothers raises a finger against Tristan ah'll shoot. That'd be self-defense, right, Mr. Dillon? 'Tain't like me an' Tristan 'ud have a chance against them two devils without shootin', knowin' all they done."

"The law wouldn't mind if you killed 'em both, Chester, and that means every sheriff in Kansas. The judges might give you a commendation. Just be careful. Don't let down your guard," said Matt.

Tristan accepted Chester's nightly escort with the prompt acquiescence of one accustomed to having others guide and wait on him, his manner suggesting a guard was nothing out of the ordinary. Jack and Tom Miller worked hard at the stockyards, drank and played cards and slept with the saloon gals until the Long Branch closed for the night. They smoothly assumed the habits of many cow hands except for their continued scrutinizing of Tristan, always accompanied by low talk, laughter and whispers.

When Tristan called Merse out at Moss Grimmick's livery, Kitty later told Matt, Doc and Chester that Tristan would not have summoned the nerve but for Merse and Chloe kissing and caressing each other in front of him as they waited for Moss to hitch up a horse so they could go buggy riding. "That poor boy is so lonely," said Kitty, "and Merse and Chloe know his head is weak. I was there waiting for Moss to saddle my mare to go visit friends, and I about told them to give a little thought for what Tristan was suffering and quit pawing each other until they drove out of his sight. Chloe made him fall for her after all. She encouraged him. He sits day and night at the Long Branch restraining his desire and his jealousy, and something about seeing those two about to ride off together, and the poor thing having to take his ride alone . . . it just kindled his feelings."

"It'd help Tristan if Miss Chloe would marry Merse and leave Dodge," said Matt. "Merse says he'll settle anywhere she wants to live. She's trifling with Merse, and it's hurting Tristan."

"I can vouch for that," said Doc. "Tristan had that fit at Delmonico's on account of Chloe."

"Oh, he did not, Doc," said Kitty, her voice a bit strident. "I didn't say that about the trouble at Grimmick's so you and Matt can blame everything on Chloe. Merse is more at fault. If he'd kept himself away from Tristan's table at Delmonico's and kept his hands off the boy, the fit wouldn't have come on Tristan.

"And Merse fondles Chloe every chance he gets, no matter where. She fondles back of course; Merse is as attractive as Tristan in a different way and she loves him, but she's too much of a lady to start it.

"Chloe's not trifling with Merse, either, Matt," Kitty went on. "She has a right to take her time making up her mind whether to marry him, and stay here in Dodge if she wants to."

Matt and Doc made no answer, but drank from their beers as they sat in the Long Branch. Despite Kitty's own criticism of Chloe, Kitty considered her a friend. Kitty's temper was heating up and they thought it best to hold their tongues and let it cool down.

"Ain't none of it Miss Chloe's fault, Doc," said Chester. "You shouldn't blame a purty young lady fer them men fightin' over 'er. Merse was a bank robber, and Tristan he's addled. He ain't got no sense at all."

"Oh, what do you know about it, Chester," said Doc.

"Wahl, I know a sight more than you do, Doc!"

"Never mind, Chester," said Matt. "Let Kitty talk. I need to know what happened at Grimmick's."

"Well," said Kitty, "Merse was about to help Chloe into the buggy when Tristan came up to them. He took off his hat and said hello to her, and begged her to go riding with him instead of Merse."

"Poor young fella," said Doc, shaking his head.

"Yeah," said Kitty. "Tristan's lost a bit of weight and his eyes are shadowed. His color's off too; he looks . . . grayish."

"Usual signs of lovesickness," said Doc.

"Anyway," said Kitty, "Tristan said to Chloe, 'You've hardly spoken to me since that horrid day at Delmonico's.'

"And Merse frowned, riling up. He put his arm around Chloe, like protective, and said kinda loud, 'And she's not speaking to you now, either. Folks all over town are calling Chloe a temptress 'cause you can't contend for a lady's hand like a man, Wayland. You had to throw a fit in public, make people pity you. So you just get on your horse and go wherever it is you're goin', and leave Chloe be.'

"Then Tristan turned cherry red. I was mortified for him, and Moss told me afterward he felt the same," said Kitty. "Chloe looked stricken. She said, 'Oh Tristan, I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you, so it's best we don't keep company.'

"Tristan yelled out then like he was playing in a theatrical, and I was even more embarrassed for him. He said, 'I don't care if you hurt me! I'd rather that than be parted from you, Miss Chloe!'

"I could tell Merse felt sorry for Tristan then," Kitty continued. "I guess he's not named Merciful for nothing. He looked real uneasy too not knowing what to say. He didn't want to just drive away with Chloe and leave that poor miserable boy standing there abandoned. So Merse looked to me, and Chloe followed his lead. Looked to me to comfort Tristan."

"Forevermore, Miss Kitty," Chester said in a hushed tone. "Merse shouldn't put you in sech a fix. How could you know what."

"Don't interrupt, Chester," Doc ordered.

"Kitty, you haven't said a thing about the standoff," said Matt impatiently. "When Tristan called Merse out."

"I'm gettin' to it," Kitty said calmly. Her companions knew then she was seeing and hearing it again, as her expressive blue eyes assumed a dreamy aspect.

"I thought maybe I could put off visiting, ask Tristan to go riding with me to relieve his distress over Chloe," said Kitty. "It's not something I usually do with a man who's not a friend, but, well, he's all alone in Dodge since Chloe stopped passing time with him. He has no friends here. Sophie Talbot's smitten with him, but Sophie's not pretty. Tristan can't notice her for Chloe."

Kitty shook her head. "I couldn't persuade him to come with me," she said.

"He gave a quick little bow, like my offer irritated him, and said shortly, 'No, thank you kindly, Miss Kitty.' "

"I wasn't about to beg him," said Kitty. "I tried to help and he turned me down, so my conscience was clear. Let him stand there and watch Merse and Chloe drive away if was bound to.

"I think Merse felt freed from being charitable to the boy when Tristan refused my company. Merse helped Chloe into the buggy and said to Tristan, 'You best get out of the way so's you're not caught under the wheels.'

"Then Tristan shouted, 'I challenge you to a duel, sir!' "

"Good heavens," said Chester.

"Merse froze with one foot in the buggy," Kitty said. "I think he wondered if Tristan was just being melodramatic. Chloe jumped up from her seat and said, 'Oh Tristan, no.' Merse reached for Chloe's hands and helped her down again, and told her to wait by the stable doors with me and Moss.

"Merse said to Tristan, 'I won't fight you.'

"And Tristan said, 'Then, sir, I will shoot you anyway.'

"Then Merse said, 'Quit calling me sir and talking like a blasted theater player, or I'll punch you out.'

"And Tristan said, 'You think I'm jesting. I assure you I am not.' His voice had gone low and tight, and it quivered.

"Merse said, 'You say you love Chloe, yet you'd kill me. I'm her cousin, and you'd shoot me in front of her? You know nothing about love, Wayland, and you're a mad fool. Chloe would hate you if you shot me.'

"Then Chloe said, _'Merse is right, Tristan. Please. Don't try to fight him.'_

"And Merse said, 'You'd lose, beside. You'd make me kill you, and I never even shot a man. I should pound your durn face in for callin' me out."

"Chloe said, _'Merse, don't.'_

"Then," said Kitty, "Tristan slowly backed away from Merse. He looked over Merse's head, past the stables to . . . some distant place, far away on the prairie. And Tristan said, slow, 'Surely then, all is lost. Miss Chloe is lost to me. I shall kill myself.' "

"My _goodness_," Chester whispered.

"Chloe gasped," said Kitty, "and Tristan pulled out that silver gun and put the muzzle to his chest.

"Chloe screamed, _'Tristan, no!' _and ran at him, and Merse rushed at her and grabbed her before she could reach Tristan. Merse was afraid she might get shot trying to take the gun from Tristan, I think.

"Tristan thumbed back the gun hammer, and Chloe struggled to get loose from Merse. She was screaming, _'Let me go! I have to save him!'_

"Tristan looked at her," said Kitty. "Oh, Doc, his eyes were so sad and weary. You know, I think that's the first time I saw Tristan look sane? That demented, excited look left his eyes, for the moment anyway, and his hand holding the gun dropped to his side.

"Tristan said, 'Then you do care a little for me, Miss Chloe. I shall cling to that hope. I won't shoot myself. I have no wish to die, really. This cursed revolver!' He raised the gun in front of his face, and his eyes lit up with the mania again. And he said, 'Why did I ever buy the thing? I abominate guns!'

"He not only hated guns, he knew nothin' about 'em," Kitty said wryly. "He forgot to push the hammer back so the gun wouldn't go off. He threw it on the ground and it fired. Luckily the bullet didn't hit any of us. It scared him bad and he snatched at his chest like he'd been shot."

"What happened then, Kitty," said Matt.

"Oh nothing much. Tristan really is addled. First he called Merse out, then gave him that expensive silver gun. Tristan waved Merse off when he said he couldn't pay for it. I think Tristan just wanted to get shet of it," said Kitty. "Merse said, 'I'll sell it back to Mr. Jonas if it's all the same to you. I'd be askin' to get robbed if I toted this thing around.'

"Merse and Chloe drove away on their buggy ride and I rode to visit my friends, and Tristan wandered off somewhere—

"Oh wait, there _is _something else, Matt. Moss said when he was hitching the horse to the buggy, he saw Jack Miller skulking round the side of the stable, watching Tristan like a hawk."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mr. Dillon," Chester argued, "you done let me guard Tristan nights more'n a week now, and pack a gun in ma belt whilst ah'm doin' it. You got yer rounds ta walk to nighttime."

"That was when the Millers just watched Tristan at the Long Branch, Chester," said Matt. "If one of 'em is missing out on an hour or more pay at the cattle pens to track Tristan in the daytime, that means they're fixing to rob him and most likely beat him too, seeing as they're known for cruelty."

"I won't let 'em beat Tristan nor me. They ain't knowed for bein' fast guns. I'll see them brothers comin' and hear 'em aforemost, and shoot both dead 'fore their guns clears the holster. I'm the one guardin' the boy all this time," said Chester. "So I should git the chance to face down them Millers when they strike. That's only fair, Mr. Dillon!" Chester's face was flushed, his soulful brown eyes gleamed wide, and he bounced on the toes of his boots as he quarreled with Matt in the marshal's office.

"Chester, the Millers could jump both you and Tristan in the dark before you see or hear a sign of them," said Matt. "And bad as they are, I don't want any man killed in this town unless there's no other way. If they see me guarding Tristan tonight instead of you, they might think better of going through with it, or if they do, I figure I can take their guns away and fight 'em with my fists if I have to."

"You don't think I kin protect Tristan nor myself, do you, Mr. Dillon," said Chester, his eyes glimmering reproachfully at Matt. "You give me the job of guard, so I reckoned it ta be different this time. Then happen I git the chance to catch them Millers so's they go back to prison where they b'long, yer takin' it from me. I din't figger you to do that Mr. Dillon for all you protect me from my own shadow, on account of it jest ain't fair one man does to 'nother un."

"You should've put your boot down, Matt," Kitty said later, and with a knowing affectionate smile, she pressed her small warm hand on Matt's arm. "Chester always could talk you into almost anything."

It was true, though Matt was unsure why, remembering the time Chester persuaded him to strap his gunbelt back on when Matt took off his badge, thinking he'd quit marshalling never to return to the job. He knew Kitty was recollecting that time, too. Matt was not, he thought, as wise at understanding what went on in people's minds as Doc was, even when it came to the workings within the marshal's own head. He thought it had to do with Chester's tendersome nature, his untainted honesty and keen feelings, and his wholehearted trust in the marshal's sense of rightness and fair play, and Matt's strong reluctance to wound Chester's feelings or disappoint him.

Matt gave in and let Chester guard Tristan alone heading from the Long Branch to Dodge House, though the decision hounded the marshal as he walked his rounds that night. No boardwalk lined the back street, and as Matt tramped through the dirt still muddy from yesterday's hard rain past decrepit buildings, junk piles and barrels overflowing with trash that no one had bothered to burn, he found his boots turning to cut through the center of town to Front Street rather than finish his patrol.

There was something subtly different about Jack and Tom Miller that night at the Long Branch. Kitty noticed it and told Chester, who by that time had befriended Tristan and sat at a table with the younger man.

Chloe had the night off, which she spent resting in her room at Ma Smalley's, and in her absence the friction in the saloon had also departed. Merse chatted with the men and gals as he tended bar, and Chester chatted at Tristan, who without Chloe there to hold him spellbound found Chester entertaining. Though Tristan seemed always giddily excited, his soft eyes glowing and tremors running through his trim frame every few minutes, beyond his conquest of Chloe and vying with Merse for her hand, which made Tristan bold, he had otherwise a shy manner, did not talk much but was an attentive listener.

Standing by their table, Kitty rested her arms on it, leaned close to Chester and Tristan and spoke in a low tone. "They're not laughing and joking and sparkin' the girls tonight," said Kitty. "The Miller brothers. They're just staring at you, Tristan. Not makin' sport like they did all the nights they've come in here. They just look serious now, and real mean."

"I own they daunt me dreadfully, Miss Kitty," said Tristan. "Perhaps I was too hasty giving away my gun."

"Thet's why ah'm guardin' you," said Chester. "Ah'll do the shootin' if the need arise." He tried hard to look and sound sure and easy, so Tristan wouldn't see how scared he was. Faced now with the real likelihood of being followed and attacked in the dark by Jack and Tom Miller, of a sudden on this night looking menacing enough in their faces to turn a body's blood to ice, Chester wondered if he'd made a mistake in talking Mr. Dillon out of taking over Tristan's guard.

Chester's heart pounded his chest wall, and he knew from the searching concerned way Miss Kitty looked at him that she saw he was afraid. He couldn't hide anything from Miss Kitty; she knew him too well.

"Chester, why don't you wait here for Matt to come and walk Tristan to Dodge House tonight," said Kitty. "Matt will stop by the marshal's office like he does after his rounds, and when he sees you're not there, he'll look for you here on account of worrying about you guarding Tristan with those beastly brothers taking such an interest in him."

Tempted to take Kitty's advice, Chester looked at Tristan, who watched him trustingly, clearly ready to follow his lead, and he knew he would not wait for Mr. Dillon to walk the boy to his room. After talking the marshal into letting him guard Tristan alone, Chester knew he'd never shake the shame if he lost his nerve, and the thought of cowering in the Long Branch until Mr. Dillon came looking for him, and having to face the marshal so after all his big talk of taking down the Millers, made his face burn.

"Tristan and me's leavin' soon's he's ready ta go to 'is room, Miss Kitty," said Chester. Kitty knew then he'd set his mind to guarding the boy by himself, and saw no point in trying to dissuade him. Generally a tractable sort, Chester now and then fervently stuck to his way, when not even Matt could turn him.

"I am quite ready to walk to my room now, Chester," said Tristan. "I enjoy your conversation, but this place is rather dreary without Miss Chloe here to brighten it. No matter she's banned me from her society, her very presence is a ray of sunlight."

"Yes, well be careful, Chester," said Kitty.

The days had grown cold and the nights frosty as winter approached, and fewer cattle drives came through Dodge every day after the harvest time rush. Though Chester and Tristan left the Long Branch earlier than usual, Front Street was already almost deserted.

Kitty stood at the bar watching the Miller brothers, who walked out a long moment after Chester and Tristan. She'd begun to care what became of Tristan, feared for Chester, felt frustrated that Matt was out walking the streets when they needed him, and if the Millers beat or shot or killed Chester, she might not hear of it until Matt came and told her, as he surely would no matter the hour.

If Chester somehow subdued the Millers with no harm to himself, Matt wouldn't think to tell Kitty about it before daybreak. No way she could lie down to sleep until she knew, and Matt wouldn't want her going to Doc's or the marshal's office by herself in the dark with the Millers running around loose.

Chester and Tristan were about halfway to Dodge House when Chester heard boot steps behind them on the boards. He looked over his shoulder and saw Jack and Tom walking fast side by side, closing the distance.

"Should I run?" said Tristan.

It seemed as good a plan as any, as Chester hadn't figured through whether he'd draw the gun first, or throw punches or talk to the brothers, and what he'd say if he did talk. Mr. Dillon rarely hesitated; he always knew straightaway what to do. Too scared to calculate on it, Chester knew he'd just do whatever he did.

"Run," said Chester. "Ah'll hold 'em off."

Tristan ran, and Jack and Tom broke into a run too. Chester pulled the gun and whirled to face them, blocking their way. _"Stop or I'll shoot," _he said.

Without pause the brothers swerved like one body onto a narrow path between shops, and Chester heard them running in the alley behind the buildings on Front Street, in the direction of Dodge House. Chester put the gun back in his belt and pursued them, though he knew with a dropping sensation in his belly that he couldn't overtake them.

Matt heard the punches like hammer blows before he saw the attack, and inwardly rebuked himself for not walking the short-cut from his patrol of the back street faster, for doing rounds at all instead of guarding Tristan. The marshal ran toward the chilling sound, and as he reached the alley backing the Front Street structures, he almost ran into Chester hurrying out of a passage.

"_Mr. Dillon!" _Chester gasped, his legs weakening with relief. "Tristan run from the Millers and they run after 'im and I drew my gun and blocked their way, and they turned down that passage there to cut 'im off roundabout! _Oh my goodness! _I hear 'em poundin' on 'im! They're _killin'_ 'im!" He limped fast to keep up with Matt's running strides, quickly falling several paces behind the marshal.

Matt saw Jack and Tom now. They'd dragged Tristan behind Dodge House and beat and kicked him as he lay sprawled on the ground.

Matt had often encountered men like the Millers brutalizing others, and they filled him with rage and made him sick to his stomach. The brothers weren't content to steal the thousands of dollars Tristan carried in his wallet and would readily have handed to them. The money to Jack and Tom was the prize for which they patiently bided their time, and the beating was the fun that came with it. Although Tristan was a stranger to the Millers, and never said a word to them before they waylaid him or given them a stern look, the brothers would eagerly beat the boy to death if not stopped, boast and laugh to each other about it later as they counted his money, and speak of him with such ferocious hatred that anyone who might have listened surely would think Jack and Tom wished Tristan to come back to life so they could beat him to death again.

Though Matt could more easily have drawn his gun and told them _Hold it_, he wanted to thrash the brothers with his fists. He collared a brother with each hand, jerked them upright so their tattered jackets bit into their throats, and bashed their heads together so their hats flew off. He could have shattered their skulls, but he kept the reins pulled tight on his anger.

The marshal let them go, and as Jack and Tom stumbled around stunned, Matt slammed his right fist quickly followed by his left into Jack's face, picked him up by his jacket as he started to fall, and threw him hard. Jack soared past Chester standing enrapt in the shadows, crashed down on an empty trash barrel, and landed with a satisfying thud in the dirt, the barrel falling and smashing on his face before it rolled away.

Tom meanwhile found his balance and went for his six-shooter as Matt whirled back round to face him, grabbing his gun. Tom drew before Matt's gun cleared the holster.

A shot cracked behind Matt. Chester could hit his target dead on in the dark, but he was a slow draw, and in his haste to stop Tom from shooting the marshal, he aimed high and his bullet ripped into Tom's nose and through his brain and skull, destroying his face in a bloody spray of tissue, bone and teeth and exploding through the back of his head.

Jack sat up and pointed his gun at Chester, and Matt aimed at Jack and pulled the trigger. Matt had to aim down, and Jack was just a shadowy form in the darkness. The form clutched its neck in both hands as Matt's bullet hit, a loud gurgling rent the night air, and Jack fell forward on his face. The gurgling abruptly ceased, and blood spread out from Jack's carcass and soaked the dirt.

Doc thanked heaven for Tristan's long, thickly lined wool coat, buttoned to his neck with the collar turned up when the Miller brothers attacked him. "He's got some bad bruising," said Doc, "but no broken ribs or damaged organs, so there won't be internal bleeding. The coat cushioned his body."

Tristan's finely molded facial bones, nose and jaw and teeth also were intact, he had a moderate concussion but no skull fracture, and his eyes, though blackened and rimmed with cuts, were untouched. "It's a dark night," said Doc, cleaning the gashes on Tristan's face. "Cloud cover over the moon and stars. The Millers didn't see him clearly enough to land many direct punches; I can tell by the marks a lot of blows glanced off. I'm guessing too they attacked him in a frenzy, like wild animals, so their fists missed as many times as they hit." Doc had chloroformed Tristan, as several deep cuts on his face needed stitches and morphine would not sufficiently deaden the pain.

While Matt carried him to Doc's, the young man had come to after passing out from the beating, and for one afflicted with chronic mania, Tristan was surprisingly calm and level-headed. "I am grateful you killed them, Marshal, you and Chester," Tristan said when Matt told him how Jack and Tom Miller died.

After waking the undertaker and telling him to "hitch up yer wagon an' pick up them two cadavers layin' back of Dodge House," Chester had hurried to the Long Branch to tell Miss Kitty that he and Mr. Dillon were alright, as he knew she'd be awake and wondering.

The ground floor of the saloon was empty except for Merse, who was sweeping up for the night. He stopped and grinned when Chester walked through the batwings. "Chester," said Merse. "You're alive and well. Tristan get to Dodge House alright?"

"The Millers beat and kicked 'im some, and Mr. Dillon tuk 'im ta Doc's," said Chester. "Jack and Tom is dead. Mr. Dillon 'n me we kilt 'em."

"_Good," _Merse declared. "If you're looking for Miss Kitty, she's upstairs in her room."

Barefoot and clad in her nightdress and wrapper, Kitty sat near the stove in her room, a cup of tea on the small round table beside her. She didn't know if she would see Matt or Chester before sunup, but she did know she'd not sleep a wink until she found out if Chester was alright.

Kitty startled at a light knock on her door, shut her eyes an instant and touched her hand to her chest, then took a deep breath and smoothed her hair, moved to the door and unlocked and opened it. Chester stood there holding his hat, looking concerned and apologetic as he thought he might have disturbed her.

Kitty sighed with relief and smiled up at him. "Chester," she said.

"Miss Kitty. I jest want ta tell you ah'm alright and so's Mr. Dillon. I figgered you'd worry 'til you knowed," said Chester.

"Oh, Chester," said Kitty. "Thank you." She wanted to hug him but didn't, not wanting to embarrass him. He was already blushing.

He told her what happened with Tristan and the Miller brothers. "I gotta rush ta Doc's now, Miss Kitty," Chester said. "Doc might need me to help patch Tristan's face. Reckon Mr. Dillon will be up to Doc's a short spell more."

"Of course," said Kitty. "Chester, will you take Sophie Talbot with you to nurse Tristan? She can stay the night at Doc's. She rooms right here just two doors down from me, and she's awake and dressed to go out in case the Millers hurt Tristan and he needed her help. She's as worried about him as I was about you."

"Yes, Miss Kitty," said Chester. "Only, can you knock on Sophie's door and tell her? Don't seem proper at this hour particular, a man knockin' on a woman's door what's not a close acquaintance."

Sophie nursed Tristan for the three days he was confined to bed at Doc's, and Doc told Matt, Chester and Kitty that Chloe visited Tristan there. "His face lit up like a candle flame when he saw her, poor boy," said Doc. "He said, 'Chloe, my beautiful darling. How sweet of you to come see me,' and held out those small white hands of his to her.

"Chloe took his hands and kissed his cheek, and she had a guilty look about her, like she was sorry. Sophie was settin' in a chair by the bed, and she got up and went to the front room when Chloe came in, but I stayed in the bedroom and leaned against the wall across from the bed to be out of their way. Tristan's my patient, and if he was struck by another fit on account of Chloe distressing him, I needed to be right there.

"Well," Doc continued, "Chloe told Tristan she and Merse are moving back to Boston to marry each other."

"I let Merse know about the wire Sam sent me," said Kitty. She sat with Matt, Doc and Chester, eating breakfast at Delmonico's. "Sam's coming home to Dodge, so I won't need Merse to tend bar anymore."

"Chloe said she and Merse will work at their family bookshop," said Doc.

"How did Tristan take it," said Matt.

"He took it well. Peaceful even. Hard to figure," said Doc. "Tristan's young and fanciful, capricious like any romantic sort, not much older than a child and thinks like one in ways. The young can be remarkably resilient.

"He said his love for her was an unceasing torment gnawing him like a cancer," said Doc.

"Very romantic," said Kitty.

"And that Chloe marrying Merse and moving away would force a separation from Tristan and be a blessing in disguise," Doc said.

"Tristan does have a mite of sense in his head after all," said Matt.

"Appears so," said Doc. "He said, 'Chloe dearest, I may never find a lady I love who will marry me. Indeed, I fear my mental state will not improve, and I need a wife who'll be a devoted nurse to me as well. I allowed myself to believe my dream of becoming sound in mind when I met you, and I see now it was only a dream.

'My father employed a nurse for me back home in Chicago, and I have been lost in Dodge City without one. Only a loving wife will save me from utter madness; I know after hearing your tidings, my dear, that I shall marry one who is both nurse and lover; though I feel no miserable passion for her as for you, only a warm affection.' "

"That sounds like a stage play script, Doc," said Matt. "How'd you recollect all that?"

"I'm filling in the parts I don't remember with my own verse in Tristan's fashion," Doc explained. "The spirit of the thing is the same."

"I wouldn't see sech a play as that," Chester said grumpily. "We all surely calculate from yer story that Tristan asked Sophie Talbot to marry him, and her bein' sweet on him a goodly spell she said yes, so why not jest tell us so direct, Doc, 'stead a talkin' witless like Tristan does. He cain't help it bein' poorly in 'is head, but you can, Doc."

"Well, you just don't appreciate eloquent expression, Chester," said Doc. "That's not all Tristan said. There's more."

Chester sighed. "Oh forevermore, Doc."

"You don't wanna hear it, you can leave the table," said Doc. "So then Tristan said to Chloe, 'I realize after those fiends nearly killed me I've no wish to bury my heart in a grave when you marry and go away from me, nor my body either, until I am an old man. I want to live long, even with my malady—' What in thunder's the matter with you, Chester."

Matt and Kitty laughed. "I 'pologize, Doc, honest," said Chester. "You got me so all-fired fidgety with that swoony talk, I done it without thinkin' on it. Them's jest scraps left on yer plate anyways. They growed cold."

Doc frowned at the remains of his breakfast swimming in the tepid coffee from Chester's cup. "How'd you like it if I poured my cup over your head," said Doc.

"Doc," said Kitty, "how did Chloe take what Tristan said?"

"Well," said Doc, "Chloe just sat by the bed holding his hand, and listened and smiled 'til he's done talking. I'd say she was happy he's marrying Sophie, so she won't have to worry about Tristan killing himself or his mental condition worsening. She stroked his hair and kissed him goodbye, on the mouth this time, and she left.

"Tristan said he and Sophie are traveling to his home in Chicago, by the way," said Doc. "He said, 'My father loves me; he just had no notion of what to do with me, so he sent me West. I suppose he thought I disgraced the Wayland name with my lunacy. Papa will welcome me back; he knows he must as I'm his son, and his conscience won't let him ship me off again. I shan't behave so strangely now I have Sophie to love and take care of me.' "

"It's what everyone needs," said Kitty, "whether or not they know it. Someone who loves them especially, and is the closest of friends too."

With a slight smile, she gazed at the marshal with that particular tender yet reflective and penetrating look reserved only for Matt Dillon. Matt returned her gaze, thinking how beautiful and wise she was.

He'd seriously courted a few women before he met Kitty, and at the invitation of various Dodge City ladies would still now and then escort them to a lecture, sociable or church picnic, dine out with them or share a meal at their homes. Even less often, Matt might visit a woman's room in town if she enticed him, or bed a dance hall gal when he traveled from Dodge.

None of these women in Matt's eyes compared with Kitty in any way, and he was fairly sure she felt the same about him and other men, though she liked men on the whole and would dally and spark when the notion took her. Kitty wasn't the sort of woman who had eyes only for a lover who wouldn't marry her. She might care for Matt above any man, but she did what she felt like doing and what she wanted to do, and Matt loved her for that as well.

Since she bought the Long Branch, stopped working as a woman of the night and realized the rather undemonstrative young marshal considered her his girl, Kitty rarely shared her bed with another man. When she did sleep with one of her many admirers, it was usually because she discovered Matt had lain with another woman or passed more time with a woman than with herself, or if Kitty needed his companionship and loving and felt that he withheld himself from her, or if Matt displeased her some way or they quarreled. As Matt was a considerate lover and friend, such things happened only infrequently, so Kitty did not often give herself to another.

As the friends lingered at Delmonico's sipping a third cup of coffee, Doc looked from Kitty to Matt with an expression as close to a smile as ever crossed Doc's mildly crotchety yet kind face. He made no secret of his desire to see two of his best friends marry and start a family.

Looking peevish, Chester hummed tunelessly as he twisted his napkin into a spear and dunked it in his water glass. He pulled it out and splashed it back in, sending droplets flying over the table.

Kitty smiled at Chester and patted his hand. "You know, the very thing I need after settin' at this table so long is a leisurely walk on the prairie?" she said brightly. "The sun's warm for almost wintertime, but a woman oughn't take her constitutional alone outside town without a man escorting her. You got time, Matt?"

"I'd like to Kitty, but I need to ride out to Spearville, stop by the sheriff's office and see how things go there. It's a new settlement, I should pay 'em a visit three, four times a year. I can forget the place exists if I don't set my mind on remembering it's there," said Matt.

"Doc?" said Kitty.

"I can't right now, Kitty. I've some calls to make. Have to drive the buggy, so it'll take me awhile," said Doc.

"Will you go with me, Chester?" said Kitty. "We can talk some more, maybe walk along that creek, the one with all the colorful smooth rocks."

The irritation faded from Chester's face and he returned Kitty's smile. "I'll walk with you, Miss Kitty," he said. "Ah'd like to."

"Alright,"said Kitty, taking his arm.

"That is a nice crik, ain't it," said Chester. "Bubbly an' merry, like it's singin'. And them l'il cottontails hoppin' all over, in an' outa the foliage thar. You recollect them cottontails, Miss Kitty?"

"Sure I do!"

END


End file.
